Rush
by toSempiternity
Summary: Luke is your classical bad boy. Annabeth dislikes him. Percy strongly dislikes him. Thalia hates him to Tartarus. Okay, I'll be your host. Doesn't mean that I won't betray said Kronos later. Set in TLO, TLH. AU. Songfic to Rush. Two-shot.


**I wanted to make this Percabeth, but this song just doesn't suit it...  
>So this is Luke and Kronos in the beginning, <em>no slash—<em>I _hate_ slash (mostly)—with Thalia/Luke and possibly Luke/Annabeth later.  
><em>Rush<em> by Aly & AJ. I was just staring meaninglessly at a trailer for "Prelude to Storm" (You know, PRNS, episode one) on YouTube, because I want to see it _so _badly but noooo, YouTube just had to get rid of it because of some copyright infringement (they would do well to put it back on if they put Nyan Cat back...OVER NYAN THOUSAND!), and the "trailer" was playing to this song. I seem to have a strange addiction to PR lately...  
>Anyways. This is broken up into several drabbles for each verse of <em>Rush<em>. And it is AU. _Alternate Universe, all the way_. There. I emboldened it, italicized it, and underlined it. You can't complain now.**

**What else?**

**Oh, yeah, since I really can't finish this whole thing, I'm dividing it into a two-shot. Okay?  
><strong>

**So:  
><em>BoldItalicized_** = Luke  
><em>Italicized<em> = Thalia/Jason  
><span>Underlined<span> = Annabeth

* * *

><p><strong><em>i:Mutiny<em>**

* * *

><p><strong>Into your head, into your mind,<strong>

Luke takes a deep breath and readjusts his armor one more time. He lifts his head to face the cold, sharp and biting wind. His head is throbbing, pounding from the premonition of what he's about to do. What the Hades is he thinking?

But it's too late to turn back now. He had swore on the River Styx—and bathed in it for this occasion too, to boot.

The wind howls. _Turn back_, it seems to whisper. _Turn back while you can._

Yeah, well, thanks for the advice. _I needed to be reminded of that._

He wants to whimper in despair.

He is going to be possessed. Controlled. He was going to be _possessed by Kronos_. Sure, Luke had been the Titan Lord's faithful servant for what, five years?—but he kind of been expecting a thing like this for a long time. It kind of surprises him how long it took for Kronos to request his body.

**Out of your soul, race through your veins.**

Annabeth had told him he was insane to do this. Part of him wonders if she was right. But he is doing this for the better good...right?

Yeah. Right.

He'll just keep on telling himself that, and maybe one day, it'll come true.

Luke bows his head. He knows that it was the wrong choice by now. He is an idiot to follow Kronos.

He feels guilty, but he still blames it all on the Olympian gods. He had thought that _she_ would have wanted him to join the Titans. If _she_ hadn't freaking turned into a botanical sensation by the grumpy old dude who calls himself "king of Olympus", he wouldn't be on this dark path right now.

_You what? You did _what?_ Are you insane? You realize that you will burn away, bit by bit, when Kronos turns into his true form?_

Sorry, Thals, the warning came a bit too late.

Adrenaline and nerves are pulsing through him as he stops in front of the coffin room on Mount Othrys.**  
><strong>  
><strong>You can't escape, you can't escape.<strong>

He steps into the room, willing himself not to shiver although the room is freezing cold. Goose bumps rise up along Luke's arms, and another gust of chilly wind ripples through his clothes.

_There you are._ Kronos's steely voice scrapes down his back like the sharp end of a serrated (hunting) knife. Sadly, he knows how that feels, thanks to a certain Hunter who brutally attacked him just twenty-four hours ago. The wound is still bright red and scarred. _Are you ready for the merge, my boy?_

Luke closes his eyes, knowing that in an hour's time, his irises would be solid gold. "Yes, my lord," he steadily says, successfully managing to keep his slightly quivering voice in check. "I am ready."

_You can't escape this_.

Luke wants to scream and throw something at Thalia's voice. _Get out of my head!_

There was silence. Obviously, it was his own feverish mind, reminding him of what a stupid and weak person he was to follow the Lord of the Titans.

And when you own brain begins a mutiny against you, you know that you're definitely doing the wrong thing.

**_[He knows that mutiny can lead...]_**

* * *

><p><strong><em>ii:Happiness<em>**

* * *

><p><strong>Into your life, into your dreams,<strong>

Thalia stomps through the camp, impatiently brushing past staring Hunters. She can't exactly explain it, but she had been feeling a bit...off since yesterday night. Perhaps it doesn't mean anything (yeah, right), but when you're a demigod, there are absolutely no coincidences whatsoever.

Hadn't he _said_, Thalia wonders as she passes a thicket of dense foliage, that he didn't swear on the River Styx? And of course, she just has to be as gullible as that and believe him. Idiot she was.

Thalia hates dreams. Dreams this, dreams that, and they were _always_ about Luke. Luke this, Luke that—and then we come back to the dreams. A never ending cycle that is driving her insane.

First she was annoyed at him, for jumping in to "save her life" from a hellhound. (As if she needed it.)

Then, she felt bad for him, because she got turned into a tree and left him alone.

She full-out hated him next.

Subsequently, she felt that both of them wanted to kill each other.

And then, she will feel mad at herself for not being there when he dies. Thalia's pretty sure that she won't see Luke meet his ultimate demise.

She sits down on a tree stump and stares at the forest floor.

**Out of the dark, sunlight again.**

Annabeth had once suggested that the reason Luke joined the Titans was because of Thalia.

_Me_.

There were times like those when she wishes she had never met Luke.

Thalia shifts, remembering that fated conversation. Well, damn, she should have kept her promise to never travel with anybody again. She should have known better, especially after what happened to Jason

_"Yeah? Where is he?"_

_"I...oh, Thalia...I'm so sorry..."_

She remembers that she had been crushed in Annabeth's hug, and felt a wet spot on her shoulder. Annabeth was crying.

Thalia remembers feeling hollow, but she supposes that she always knew, deep down inside her—of course, she didn't admit it—that Luke would turn. Their talks had proven that enough.

**You can't explain, you can't explain.**

_"I think it was you who made Luke join the Titans. He would expect that you would follow him."_

Percy had given her a reproachful look after he said that, as if it was Thalia's fault. She had already heard that from her best friend once, she didn't need to hear it from Percy Jackson again.

Argh! She clutches her head. Memories! They're like police officers. They're never there when you need them, but they're right around the corner when you don't want to see them.

Still, she can't explain why he would ever believe that she would join the Titans. As much as she disliked her father—and Apollo as well, she was pretty sure that he was behind the choice of the tree—she wouldn't just...run away from that and join the Lord of Time. Would she?

The scary truth is, if Thalia thinks it through, joining Kronos would be the logical reason, the _sensible one_. Honestly, the gods could sometimes be total dunces. A new government would do well to replace them.

Tears prick her eyes as a gentle breeze ripples through the forest, the sunset casting shadows across the whole forest. The sky is awash with beautiful hues of red, orange, and gold. But Thalia is immersed in her own dark thoughts. Everything was so gray in her own little world, so devoid of life right now.

_Damn you, world,_ she silently curses, tears now flowing freely down her cheeks. _Damn you, for being so cruel._

_[Because happiness is...]_

* * *

><p><strong><em>iii:Emperor<em>**

* * *

><p><strong>Can you feel it, can you feel it,<strong>

**_[...To a new ruler.]_**

Luke vaguely feels himself. Since when has something like this ever happened to a demigod? He is trapped. In his own freaking, gods-forsaken body, nonetheless.

Oh, Luke has some degree of emotions. He still has some control over what he does. But for the most part, Kronos controls his actions. Luke kind of just numbly carries them out. He never says anything. Whatever comes out of his lips are Kronos's words, and in the Titan Lord's own voice to boot.

Luke can feel Kronos's presence inside him: a straining, wild, dark and unbroken force that longs to gain total control of him. Luke resists, of course—he can't just let the lord of the Titans take mindless and complete control over his body. It _was_ him, after all.

Several times, Luke has tried to push Kronos's spirit out. His own soul feels like its basking in a nuclear reactor, slowly being torn apart, molecule by molecule as Kronos begins to take a firmer foothold on him.

Slowly but surely, Luke begins to feel his very identity drifting away. His will, his soul is being burned up and is melting into Kronos's twisted spirit.

**Rushin' through your hair,**

Luke finds himself getting weaker and weaker as Kronos gets stronger and stronger. Without thinking, Luke blindly begins to battle Kronos. He is getting ripped apart. Luke doesn't like getting ripped apart.

The first time Luke somewhat manages to find a breach in Kronos's control, he emerges weak and dazed, unable to sustain the power of keeping Kronos in check while controlling his own limbs and brain.

For those couple of seconds, he is confusedly staring at Ethan Nakamura, the son of Nemesis. He is slumping in a golden throne and opens his mouth, gasping, "I don't..."

He slips back under the control of Kronos again, this time, his soul being raked with even more intense pain then before.**  
><strong>  
><strong>Rushin' through your head,<strong>

Luke finally understands the insanity, the rage of his lord's thoughts. Kronos doesn't build, as he had promised to do—he only destroys. The son of Hermes _finally_ realizes that joining Kronos is a bad, very bad idea.

And it takes him five years to realize that? That is so sad.

Luke spiritually winces as Kronos's control slips up another notch.

He can fuzzily imagine Annabeth teasing him. _Annabeth_. Oh, gods, what's happening outside of his body? The pounding in his head is drowning out all noise.

Luke blearily takes a peek out of his eyes and would have had a coronary if Kronos allowed him to. He desperately struggles to stop Kronos's hand from stabbing Annabeth in the neck. He will_ not_ allow the seven-year-old who tried to brain him with a hammer be impaled in the gut.**  
><strong>  
><strong>Can you feel it, can you feel it!<strong>

Of course he can feel it. The strain of preventing the Titan Lord from his actions is killing his mind, ripping it to shreds. Along with Kronos's, Luke can feel his sanity slip by a notch.

_No. I must remain in control._

Luke summons every scrap of his weak will and savagely begins to fight Kronos's spirit. He has to get the vile spirit out. He can imagine himself screaming in the process, but his one goal at this point?

Get. Kronos. Out. He would have to fight hard for it—obviously—but he was sure it would be worth to have control over his actions again.

He means, he can hardly say, _Er, my lord? Can I have control back of my body? You're kind of pissing me off._

Kronos had obviously been listening to his mental argument. _Don't even think about it._

But he did think about it. He thought about it for a long time, and decides that something has to be done. He smiles to himself, trying to shield his traitorous thoughts from the Titan Lord. Now, all Luke has to do is get _Kronos_ out of the way, and he can rule the world...

...Or, perhaps: he can twist Annabeth to his will.

* * *

><p><strong><em>iv:The Blue and the Gray<em>**

* * *

><p><strong>Don't let nobody tell you, your life is over,<strong>

Annabeth "wakes up"—more like she wakes up in a dream—to find herself screaming in a black void that was horrifyingly similar to Tartarus. She has the same sensation as she would if falling down a bottomless pit of evil.

She falls down continuously, her eyes screwed up against the roaring wind. The gale rips straight through her hair, making it whoosh up straight like a torch.

She can hear somebody screaming underneath her. With a jolt, she tumbles on a heap at the bottom of the bottomless pit.

Luke, or what remained of Luke, dully glanced up at her. "Annabeth..." he croaks, reaching out a hand.

**Be every color that you are,**

Annabeth sits up and looks around the room. "So?" she demands, whirling on Luke. "Are you _him_, or Luke?"

"Me," Luke suggests wearily. "Why don't we—"

"Let's _not_ go with that!" Annabeth snaps. She prods Luke in the chest, but her finger goes straight through his being. He was only a spirit. Well, no matter, she can now smack him all around the place as much as she wants to without hurting him. "If this were _you_, you wouldn't have tried to brutally kill me!"

"Annabeth, dear," Luke says quietly, "don't you get that I'm kind of possessed by the Lord of Time?"

"Don't call me that," Annabeth growls. "You know what? I think I should have let Thalia impale you."

Luke smirks at her. "You know you don't want that to happen, Annabeth."

"I'm not kidding!"

"I love you too." Annabeth had a feeling that Luke wasn't joking. Well, then. He can be the romantic all he wants, and Annabeth will be thoroughly disgusted by the end of this wonderful little conversation.

**Into the rush now,**

"You already tricked me with your mouthful of lies once," Annabeth says through gritted teeth. "I'm not going to fall for it again."

"I wasn't tricking you," Luke plaintively said. "I was stating what I actually believed."

"Suuuuure," Annabeth sourly retorts, although she hates it when Luke is so logical like that at times. "Keep on telling yourself that, and maybe it'll come true."

"I'm _already_ telling myself that I'm doing this for the better good. I don't have any room left in my head."

Annabeth scowls. "Get me out of your body."

Luke shrugs, a smile touching the corner of his lips. "Annabeth Chase, you of all people should know that you can't get out of a dream until you wake up. I can't pull you out of Hypnos's clutches."

Well, what was the point of this stupid dream, anyways?

**You don't have to know how,**

What she doesn't notice was that she has—accidentally, of course—voiced her thought out loud. Her composure cracks as Luke raises an eyebrow.

"Why?" she whispers, all trace of her former anger gone. "Why did you have to leave me?"

Luke chides her. "Now, now, don't be so self-centered, Annabeth. I already told you; I was following my beliefs."

Annabeth laughs, albeit with no trace of happiness in it. It's as bitter as quinine. "Great ethics you have there. And _you_ talk about _me_ being self-centered? Look at yourself. Look what you did to me." She pauses, and is sure that her expression is like she is swallowing a whole mountain full of Vitamin C tablets. "What you did to _Thalia_."

A faint smile touches the corner of Luke's lips. "Oooh, getting jealous now, aren't we, Annie?"  
><strong><br>Know it all before you try.**

Annabeth yelps, not even registering the fact that she hated—and still despises—being called Annie. "_Jealous?_ You have no idea what you're talking about."

Luke holds up a hand. "Stop it. I know what you're going to say next. 'Why would I be googly-eyed over a guy like you?' Don't worry, I try."

"Forget it," Annabeth says in disgust. "My _point_ is, Luke, you ruined so many lives—you know what? I can't even say it."

"I'm losing you," Luke says, his face getting blurry. "Just promise me—if I'm about to kill you, remind me about...y'know...Family. That sort of stuff."

And Annabeth snaps awake in her bed while screaming into her pillow, tangled up in her covers, a bright sheen of sweat covering her face. Thalia's worried face hovers over her. "Are you okay? You were convulsing and screaming in your sleep."

Annabeth stares up into Thalia's blue eyes and feels like her secrets are being extracted out of her. Annabeth swallows. Jealous?_ Moi?_

"Never better."

Thalia raises an eyebrow, looking quite unconvinced, but doesn't push the matter, which Annabeth is thankful for. "In that case, you better go wake up Percy. Perhaps smack him on the head with a shield; he's sleeping like he just had a recovered case of insomnia." She stiffly walks towards the door and stops, turning around to face the daughter of Athena. "And, Annabeth? I've been having dreams, too. There's really no point in hiding anything. Aren't we all friends here?"

Annabeth holds her gaze. Gray against blue. Annabeth has a sudden revelation: the Confederates were Gray and the Union was Blue in the Civil War. And we all know who wins that battle.

Heck, she's been called a "damn Yankee" when she visited Virginia a couple years ago, although she was born there. **[A.N./ I object on...moral grounds. No offense intended.]**

She averts her gaze from Thalia's burning blue one. They hold...maybe a hint of annoyance...and possibly even a sense of _betrayal_ in them. Why betrayal?

Annabeth Chase is a lot of things, but she isn't a Benedict Arnold.

She winces as the door slams shut behind Thalia. Annabeth listens to her receding footsteps until she can't hear them anymore, stares into her pillow and watches as a small watery drop slowly spreads across the rumpled white fabric.

[The Blue and the Gray...]

* * *

><p><strong><em>v:Illusion<em>**

* * *

><p><strong>Pulling you in, spinning you 'round,<strong>

_[...A total illusion.]_

_{Just go in it. It'll be completely pain-free, I assure you. Much better than dying, eh?}  
>{Suuure...}<em>

Thalia doesn't believe in coincidences, and this just proves that the word "coincidence" does not coincide with the world at all. She seems to like words that start with "co-" today.

It's been about four or five days—she's guessing five—since Percy Jackson, Hero *Idiot* of Olympus has disappeared. Five days since Annabeth Chase, stoic daughter of Athena has crumbled to near insanity. Five days since Thalia has ordered the Hunters to pack and search for the son of Poseidon.

Even now, _five days later_, there are still mutters of discontent among the little group. Five is the sacred number today. Tomorrow, it will be six. And then seven. And then...

Phoebe stops her and asks for the millionth time, "Why are we searching for a boy?"

"He saved Olympus," Thalia tiredly answers. "What other explanation do you need?"

"But he's a _boy_," Amber pipes in.

Thalia resists the urge to scream and shoot her. "Yes, the world's come to the conclusion that he's a boy about a year before he was born," she says through gritted teeth.

"So why are we doing it?"

_{Ohmigod. She is, like, so dense!}  
>{"Ohmigod?" You're losing your touch. You do not know how much you sound like Staci Johnson.}<br>{Hunters and gossiping really don't mix well together.}  
>{No, you dolt, it's a character from <em>Going Bovine_.}  
>{You can read?}<br>{...} _

Thalia claps a hand to her forehead.

_{Getting pissed...}_**  
><strong>  
><strong>Lifting your feet, right off the ground,<strong>

"I can't take this anymore," she mutters to herself as the Hunters trek across Pike's Peak.

"What?" Amber asks.

_{Slow, aren't they?}  
>{One, you already said that in a more insulting way, two, you <em>shut up_ this instant or I will stick a blade through you the second I get out of this mess.}  
>{You can't do that...}<br>{EFFING SHUT UP!}_

Thalia stops and repeats, "I can't take this anymore. All of you, _stop asking stupid questions_ on why we're searching for Percy Jackson. Deal with it. And even if it takes a century, I am _not_ stopping until we find him."

"He'll be dead in a century," Taylor mumbles.

_{Oh? He _was_ dead the last time I checked.}  
>{Stop making sick comments. It isn't making this any better.}<em>

Phoebe nudges her. "Stop stating the obvious."

"Thank you," Thalia says, for she has been about to say so in a much more crazy tone of voice. "Now, about Lycaon..."

"You still haven't told us why we're trailing—" Taylor begins to point out, but a howl slices through the night air.

"There's your answer," Thalia says before taking off. "They're monsters. Period."**  
><strong>  
><strong>You can't believe, it's happening now.<strong>

"All right," Thalia says from behind a rock. "What the Hades are those teens doing in a cave, for the gods' sakes? Didn't they ever hear of the Big Bad Wolf?"

_{I don't think that they read fairy tales.}  
>{Well, Mr. I-know-that-they-don't-read-fairy-tales-'cause-I'm-the-ruler-of-the-world, you keep on telling me that—you know what? Tell yourself that. You know what I'm talking about, right?} <em>

Nobody has a logical answer to that.

"Wait," Phoebe whispers, pointing. "There's the what-do-they-call-it—goat-man."

"Satyr," Thalia automatically corrects. "Maybe Camp Half-Blood's issued a quest...? Oh, what the heck, just fire!"

Wolves begin exploding into mountains of wheat flour—a.k.a. monster dust—as arrows begin to fly. Thalia searches for their king, Lycaon, and spots him in the midst of it all, cursing and howling.

Sadly, her arrow is snatched out of the air by Lycaon, who apparently wasn't too bright, as it left a charred and smoking gash across his palm. Another arrow from Phoebe catches him in the shoulder, and he wails in pain and outrage.

"Curse you!" he howls, and turns towards one of the people in the cave, snarling. Lycaon then scampers away with the remainder of his pack yapping around his heels.

A couple of the timber wolves dart ahead into the cave. Thalia breaks out into a dead sprint, leaving the rest of the Hunters behind. She stops in front of a blond guy who looks vaguely familiar. She gropes for the memory, but it evades her.

_{Curse you, this isn't real, so let—}  
>{I'll release you when I feel like it.}<br>{And when's_ that_ gonna be?}_

The girl, who looks like she's Cherokee, blinks at her and then the guy and says shakily, "You're her. You're Thalia."

Thalia tenses. She's pretty sure that she hasn't seen the girl before, but the guy...no. Impossible. The last time she saw him, he had a scar on his face. And he couldn't be _that_ old already, even if he chose rebirth...

She takes off her hood. "Do I know you?"

"Thalia," the guy says shakily, suddenly standing up, "I'm Jason. Your brother."

Holy gods. Oh my freaking Zeus. Hades' underpants. _Merlin's beard._ (All right, so she quoted Harry freaking Potter. So what?) She compared _Luke Castellan_ to _Jason Grace_. No. Effing. Way. Of course, unless there was some dark secret to her brother that she definitely would not want to know about.

_{Let me out...}_

And for a moment, that's all she can register—a fresh wave of unhealed pain. And for once, it's not because of losing Jason. Not even seeing the said boy, her lost brother of twelve years can heal it.

Oh, she hates her life so much.

She puts a sunny smile on her face and hugs Jason, although she feels empty inside.

_{Please?}  
>{Well, of course. This scene is making me sick.}<em>

"Didn't I say 'of course'?" Luke's voice drifts to her from across the room. "No matter. That's only a vision of what _would_ have happened. Although, thanks for comparing me to your brother."

Thalia groans, opening her eyes to stare at the stainless steel wall that she has been looking at for the past three months. "Great to know that," she mutters. "Play with me under your thumb. Thanks, I really appreciated it."

_Worst form of torture. Ever,_ she privately thought.

Luke spreads his arm, broadly smiling, his blue eyes glimmering. "This is reality," he says. "Deal with it. The little heroes in those worn out, crappy collection of myths were, more or less of a lie. What you define as 'good' doesn't always win, Lightning Girl. Because sometimes, evil's gotta win, too. We're keeping the world in balance here." He strokes her cheek, softly laughing. "And in the war that mattered, the antagonist won. Me."

* * *

><p><strong><em>vi:Civil War<em>**

* * *

><p><strong>Can you feel it, can you feel it,<strong>

[...Led to a Civil War.]

Annabeth is ready to drop down dead from despair.

The last time she had checked, most of the gods were thrown down in the pits of Tartarus, while some minor gods were holding up the sky. Monsters run rampage throughout the world, which wasn't a world the last time she checked, either.

Oh, no: DBC News—Demigod Broadcast Channel—reports that dear old Luke has decided to smash the continents together until they resembled little more than a huge, earthy blob of Silly Putty. Annabeth is pretty sure Gaea does not appreciate that.

Luke had done away with Silly Putty as well.

Convincing stubborn Romans to join their cause is even harder. Annabeth is locked in a heated argument with their praetors.

Reyna: "You trash my first home and expect me to help you?"

Jason: "Really, we're fine by ourselves, we promise." *Glances apologetically at fellow praetor*

Reyna: "We _really_ don't need your help right now. Nor will I allow us to help _you_."

Jason: "We'll call you if we need you." (He sounds unconvinced it will ever happen.) *Pauses* "And Reyna's kidding, we'll help you if you need it." *Is swatted*

Reyna: "And you think I care about the annihilation of Silly Putty?"

Jason: "...Reyna..."

Annabeth has tried to explain, again and again that green Silly Putty mixed with sulfur is very important to their cause. Apparently, monsters cannot stand the smell or the sight—hellhounds and _empousai_ and a few other notable nasties think it looks like mucus. They have a huge grudge against mucus. That's understandable.  
><strong><br>Rushin' through your hair,**

"Come on," Annabeth cajoles, trying to coax a "yes" out of one of the stubborn praetors' lips. "That saying—'Together we stand, divided we fall'. Does that mean anything to you?"

"It's _so _cliché," Reyna dismissively answers.

"You sound like a daughter of Aphrodite," Annabeth mutters.

Reyna scowls. "Shut up!"

Jason looks a bit swayed, which Annabeth takes as a good sign. "I don't know," he says uneasily. "Greeks and Romans have a long rivalry with each other. It's likely that the legion will start screaming bloody murder—"

"We're more disciplined than that, Jason!" Reyna grumbles.

"—Besides, why don't you just kill this Luke guy? Problem solved."

Annabeth averts her gaze. "I—we can't."

Jason raises a skeptical eyebrow and shifts in his seat. "Oh? I'm intrigued. Why?"

"Well—um—" Annabeth does some quick thinking. _Anything_ other than admitting that she can't just kill the guy who took her in at a tender age of seven in cold blood. Jason and his not-blunt-to-the-point-of-annoyingness buddy will definitely take it the wrong way.

"He captured some—no, a lot of our demigods," she says. "He'll kill them before we can get near him."

"War is war," Reyna counters, leaning forwards. "You have to make sacrifices."

Annabeth doesn't want to say that one of those "sacrifices" was a certain daughter of Zeus, who will be the first one to be murdered if any of them step out of line. Assuming that she hasn't collaborated with Luke out of desperation, at least.

Jason catches the look on her face and immediately assumes the worst. "Is he killing them right now?"

"Um...no. At least, I don't think so. I'm...sixty-five percent sure of that." Annabeth winces. That sounds so convincing, and this meeting is not going along well.

Both praetors stare at her until she cracks.**  
><strong>  
><strong>Rushin' through your head,<strong>

"Sixty five percent," Jason says, and then wolf-whistles. "Gosh, Annabeth. Do you ever have faith in yourself?"

"Yeah," Annabeth dully says.

_That faith has been missing ever since Percy died,_ the truthful part of herself whispers.

"Shut up," Annabeth crossly tells it.

Reyna's fingers tap along her armrest. "Come again?"

Annabeth scowls. "My _point_ is," she snaps, "I can't just kill Luke like that." She pauses, and then recklessly says, "You would agree with me, Jason, if you knew the truth."

Well, could you blame her? She hasn't had a wink of sleep the last few nights. She is feeling a little ditzy.

Jason's mouth has become a thin line. "Would I?" His tone almost has something of a challenge in it.

"Uh—yeah," Annabeth stutters, realizing her mistake. Oh, Thalia is going to _kill_ her after this. Assuming that she doesn't die first.

_Stall, Annabeth. You can do this._**  
><strong>  
><strong>Can you feel it, can you feel it! <strong>

Reyna looks like she just wants to get this conversation over with. "Nevertheless. As Jason said before, we'll contact you if we need help..."

Jason holds up a hand. "Reyna, stop it. Please. I know you're impatient, but I want to hear what Annabeth has to say." He waves a hand. "Go on."

Annabeth fidgets, her ADHD going completely overdrive. "No, really, it's not that important. It—it can wait for another time."

Jason frowns, and looks like he is about to argue, but Reyna slaps him. "Jason Grace, we have a war going on and all you think about are prisoners of war that will have you, somehow, agree with Annabeth."

Annabeth's jaw drops open like concrete in water. "_Grace?_" she splutters, turning red, and then green, and then oatmeal gray, like an out-of-control set of traffic lights. "_Grace?_" She swallows. "Jason, you're not the only child of Zeus, you know?"

Jason looks miffed. "'Course I am. Who else would be alive?"

"Oh, I don't know," Annabeth sardonically says, getting pissed off. "Maybe a sister?"

Jason's expression barely twitches, but Annabeth catches the momentary flash of panic and surprise that flits across his face.

"No. Of course not. What would make you think that?"

And that one word, "No", meant that Jason was totally, indefinitely in denial. Annabeth had a lot of work to do.

* * *

><p><strong>Tell me what you think! R &amp; R! Rick and Riordan!<strong>


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